


Identity

by SomeSunnyDay



Category: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac
Genre: Angst, Derealization, Hallucinations, Identity Issues, Introspection, Memory Loss, References to eating disorders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:42:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26671603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeSunnyDay/pseuds/SomeSunnyDay
Summary: I'm so sick, but I can't find a remedy. I'm still trying to find my identity.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	Identity

**Author's Note:**

> This was based on the song "Identity" by granson, in part. I've also been having a hard time with my own personal view. Have this because I liked how it turned out.

He sits on the couch, no thoughts going through properly. TV snowy like his mind. He’s fed up with who is, there’s no more Freezy’s in the fridge. He’s so angry all the time. When did he get like that? When did his nights turn into sitting on the couch and staring at a TV that broke years ago? When did he lose who he was?   
  
He used to mean something to people, at least to the ones he had before The Wall. He looked over to his boarded up window, he went out yesterday, but didn’t talk to anyone. He used to have dreams and aspirations, they got crumpled up by mental illness and lack of help. He’s been lost for so long, where does he live again?   
  
When was the last time he took a shower without being disgusted at his appearance? His body wants so much, begs for proper meals, yet rejects the smallest amount of nutrients. It could never make up its mind. He could never really make up his mind; too much fuzz.   
  
He goes out and people are rude to him, he never really understood that. He tried to make friends, but they couldn’t be what he needed; what he wanted. He had hope for a while, but it was eventually snuffed.   
  
He popped his jaw and got up. It was still nice to do nightly routines even if he wouldn’t be sleeping. He moves to his bathroom and discards most of his clothes since summer is making its rounds. He looks in the mirror, and even though he can’t see his face in its entirety, he still tries to keep his teeth and face as clean as they can be.

  
He still tries, and maybe he didn’t lose all of his hope, but it wasn’t good to dig on that. So he takes off his boots and socks and lays on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He doesn’t like certain types of existential thinking, since some of the things missing from his memories makes him frustrated. He knows all he has is his psychosis and destructive way of life. There’s nothing else.   
  
He’s attempted being something other than a maniac, he tried being an artist again, but that always circled back to painting The Wall and feeding Moose. He wanted to write, but his thoughts were too jumbled and messed up. When he found an instrument he smiled, it was something new to try, but he didn’t get very far and he was forced to abandon that project.   
  
His eyes were getting heavy, and he fought with himself over sleep.   
  
He tried to claw at himself but his hands kept dropping. He sat up the best he could, he hates sleep, he doesn’t want to wake up and not know who or where he is. He hits his head, these are the rare times that he feels scared. He moves around and fights the shadow people attempting to grab him, he screams.   
  
He screams until he hears Nail Bunny’s voice, “Nny, you need to calm down, it’ll only get worse if you’re frustrated.”   
  


He stops. His breath is skipping and his body hurts from lashing. He looks over to Nail Bunny floating beside a looming shadow person.    
  
“Hey- look at me, don’t pay attention to them.”   
  
He nodded, Nail Bunny continued, “I’ll remind you where and who you are in the morning, but you need sleep, please stop fighting this.”   
  
He looked over to his feet, the end of his bed stretching with the rest of the room, when Nail Bunny spoke again, the whole thing snapped back to normal.   
  
“Please. I’ll be here watching out for you until you get up.”   
  
His hands clenched, but he trusts Nail Bunny, so he nods. He rolls over after he covers his feet with the sheet and closes his eyes. Nail Bunny reassures him to sleep. He doesn’t like when he dreams of things and people he no longer has access to. It makes him upset and he always wakes up in a cold sweat. He doesn’t remember when he had a good dream, he doesn’t know if he can ever again.   
  
He’ll wake up, and he hopes Nail Bunny will be around to remind him of himself and where he is. Even though he hates and is disappointed in who he is, at least he knows that version of himself enough. He knows that part, and that’ll have to do for now, since he’s still trying to find his identity.   
  
He knows it’ll take some more time, but eventually it’ll be ok. He’ll matter to someone again, he’ll stop being so angry, and he’ll be at peace with new goals to work on. It’ll be pieced back together again, his sanity will be back. He thinks he still has hope somewhere buried, and maybe that’s a start, once he’s ready to work with it.    
  
He’ll find who he is sometime, and he has that little sliver of hope that it’ll be soon.


End file.
